


Erik's Theory of Happiness

by brownmuse



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alice in Wonderland References, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fantasy, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownmuse/pseuds/brownmuse
Summary: Erik Stevens has been having strange dreams since his childhood, dreams filled with unusual creatures and eccentric characters. Upon losing all hope for happiness, he soon returns to Wonderland as an adult and discovers everything has gotten worse. Erik must travel through his own mind to discover the truth about who he truly is, restore the fragments of his memories, and save Wonderland in order to save himself and the world he's grown to love.





	1. Chaos, The Mother (I) - Lost Children

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do this idea forever and have finally brought it into fruition! Alice in Wonderland is one my favorite childhood stories, and so I resonated with its premise to produce an unique exploration of Erik's psyche /trauma. Lots of metaphors and symbolism forthcoming! Alongside many original characters that enrich the world Erik will traverse through. I'm excited to share this journey with everyone!

It is said Time builds friendship with no man—always floating, always progressing, and always unraveling. Perhaps, if somebody informed Erik of his complicated relationship with Time earlier, he would have ensured more generous dedication toward absorbing the moments life had once blessed him with.

Father Time maintained no favors, leaving Erik—another misguided soul—entangled in a void of infinitude. He was nothing more than a pawn at the mercy of his chess master caught between a sadistic game he never once volunteered for and could never forfeit.

Multitudes of clocks, measurements of his misfortunes, descended one after another; filling the long, cerulean corridors Erik meandered through. He carried himself along the luminous stream dripping from mullioned window before him. Rays of brightness reflected off the exposed dials like glistening chandeliers. They swayed endlessly, showcasing nothing but mockery at his sluggish pace; a collision of ticking hands and deafening sounds of eternity. Each tick became another oncoming wave threatening to submerge him further into a deep sea.

Erik hesitantly continued down the arched, glass doorway ahead that induced him into a steady trance. He could never smother this feeling, no matter how times he’s visited this particular dimension. Somehow intertwined but unaware of his beginnings. Always aware of his emotions, yet blind towards his experiences.

“Come now, Erik. It’s only a dream.”

_A dream._

If only everything was merely a sweet illusion he could easily dismiss.

As much as he yearned, Erik harbored no such power. His prayers for better hallucinations, nonsensical as it sounded, proved futile. He was drowning in this dark vacancy—his own subconscious incarceration.

The clocks looming above continued humming their dreadful tune, droning closer to unleashing Judgement Day upon the wandering lamb as he confronts his sins. Before he reached the doorway, a disembodied voice fractured his thoughts, ceasing every movement.  _Turn back, Erik. These manifestations you needlessly approach beyond the threshold will only lead you more astray. Please, you are not ready!_

Recognition flooded Erik’s senses. It’s a melancholic melody he’s heard on many occasions. Counseling him, blinding him. Temptation curled in his toes as he slowly turned his head to face the quivering figure awaiting him. He captured a glimpse of indigo dyed orbs shimmering with renewed hope at his submission, possessing layers of sorrow buried beneath a veil, making everything appear matte.

Erik’s face contorted and he immediately returns to his previous stance, “Why you here, Odessa?” The frustration lapsed from his lips. “You know I ain’t just runnin’ back empty handed, especially since I didn’t end up here by choice anyway.”

“You’ve arrived against your choice? Then where have you been all this time, Erik?” Odessa gradually stepped forward, tears welling her eyes. “Stay, leaving offers no protection,” she nearly collapsed on his back, cementing her feet onto the ground as she embraced him tightly.

The warmth almost prompts Erik to fulfill a new promise of abandonment toward everything unrelated to her presence. Move forward, Erik. Don’t look back. The light displays delusions just as they equally make the darkness their throne as well. Heaviness ignited an ache dwelling in his stomach. How long has he been gone?

“No, Odessa. I’m…I’m sorry, but… I can’t,” Erik pressed, remorse laced between every word.

“Is this something you absolutely must pursue?” The edginess in her voice made him crawl towards indifference.

Erik slowly settled his hands on Odessa’s trembling ones, still facing forward. The option of greeting oblivion began to feel enticing the more his back absorbed her distress. “This is something I gotta face.”

She abruptly slipped her hands from his touch, seeing past the mask of those words. Odessa delayed her response, entering a silence louder than the blaring of the clocks. “Eelisi…” She absently implied, “…is trying to reach out to you, right?”

Erik turned sharply and glowered, confusion flourishing his features. “The hell you talking about?”

“It seems you can’t remember. I presume that is a good thing,” Odessa quipped causing Erik’s stare to harden. He observed her eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining in the sunlight. There was something else in them, something looming. They harbored secrets, the same way a pot nursed layers of deep soil. “Must you always leave us?”

Erik becomes compelled to approach her and chastise for needless cryptic answers once again but a newfound ache began swirling in his stomach, demanding his urgency toward something more incomprehensible than himself.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta leave and start somewhere.” He callously concluded before stepping forward into his calling. A foreign feeling implored he discard everything and run back into the arms of Odessa, but alas, some necessities required sacrifices.

Sunlight quickly diminished as he ventured further into the unknown world, darkness seeping throughout his vision. However Erik’s eyes soon greeted a new light, more dismal and faint. The awaiting sight before him unfolded across an ornate blanket of white chrysanthemums. His footsteps grew heavier. Murmured prayers and hushed voices touched his ears. Seated before an open chestnut coffin was a young woman, wearing a red dress and matching flowers blooming between her hair. With hands clasped and head solemnly bowed, she recited a devotional from her lips—

_May my words reach you through these empty halls. Oh, Virtuoso!_

_May my suffering be ceased by your merciful hands_

_To dismantle my fate, I beg you_

_To cleanse my sinful being, I implore you_

_For I am guilty of swallowing the sun_

_As I commit to your desires, I shall offer you my final drop of blood_

_Oh, Virtuoso! My body must burn for my sins,_

_For you, I desire glory_

_For myself, a humble demise_

_And for the lone soul standing behind me, I wish nothing but reconciliation and sweet farewells_

_For we…cannot be separated_

Upon her revelation she paused, slowly lifting her head and revealing her face. Crimson eyes. Those crimson eyes swimming with the heaviness of one thousand untold stories. Wilting under her gaze, Erik’s mouth agapes as he surrendered himself by falling onto his knees.

_I am thou, thou art me._

Together, they both uttered softly from their lips,

_Amen._


	2. Chaos, The Mother (I) - Once We Were

The Möbius Strip is a tangible, two-dimensional space containing only one continuous side and one boundary component. Appearing as an infinite loop, its inner and outer surfaces flow into each other seamlessly, co-creating the whole. When traveling along its band, one can eventually end up along the same point they started at, but interestingly, “up” has now become “down.” Looping around once to where one initially started, they inevitably transform into a new reflection of themselves. Living inside a Möbius World would produce beginnings encountering an fruitless end; endings confronting a fruitful beginning. Yet, how does one strangely traverse around something, only to return to where they started?

Because of the half-twist of the Möbius Strip, everything appearing right side up for one person, and supposedly for that same person, is upside down for another. In other words, “right” has become “left”. The person seemingly upside down partially resembles their counterpart right side up, revealing how one person on this tangible strip is an existential being of which someone on the opposite side is actually themselves. Imagine visiting your own house, but on a different side of the strip; perceiving your own house as your beloved friend’s when you go to visit them. However, you soon discover your friend never once existed, and every conversation was only a disheartening illusion.

Life on the Möbius Strip… a strange phenomenon that Erik Stevens felt perpetually trapped in since the development of his subconscious mind.

The human subconscious mind: a voluminous memory bank caching one’s beliefs, memories and life experiences. A layer beneath focal awareness and deep critical thinking.

However, Erik was keenly aware (perhaps, more than he’d like) of his possible existence inside the topological space defined as the Möbius Strip.  Ever since his brain could successfully supply the capacity to acknowledge and comprehend mathematics, he consistently contemplated if his imaginary land— as ridiculous as it sounds—called Wonderland encapsulated this loop. More so, providing a plausible explanation for his acquired above-average and hyperactive imagination that many had denounced from his childhood to now.

Erik despised being wrong. He especially despised  his information being declared inaccurate and quickly dismissed when his experiences didn’t conveniently align with peoples’ distorted perceptions of problems not impacting them. Even despite the strongest logical reasoning and evidence-based information, some people remained indoctrinated to their own prejudices. Erik  _knew_  his shit. _Owned_  his shit. And he wasn’t going to allow anyone to define his functionality, and who he essentially was.

_Scatterbrained, absentminded, abstracted._

Those were few of the many… colorful descriptions applied to his fragile psychological condition by nameless strangers outside his circle. Though, Erik easily concluded that convincing people he could conceive elusive fantasy worlds with diverse narratives would never achieve positive consensus, especially any testimonies deriving from a mentally ill orphaned Black child.

Living in two worlds at the same time; interweaving fantasies based exclusively on characters he conjured almost became a burdensome package. Others could daydream normally and escape their circumstances temporarily. But for Erik, his fantasies were an inescapable spectrum consumed by devastation beyond his control. Asking him how often he daydreamed soon became equivalent to asking him how many times he breathed in one day. He simply couldn’t advise himself when to appropriately daydream or not. Any remaining willpower left flowing through him had long dissolved. Maintaining strength and perseverance were slowly reduced to dismissive farces. An alcoholic can run out of booze and money, but he didn’t run out of mind. He couldn’t can’t just tell himself to stop thinking.

Despite his minimal control, Erik still sympathized with the convoluted universes his subconscious tried dismantling everyday. These intricate stories required thoughtful nourishment. They thrived vicariously on their own. Some of these storylines, he wanted them specifically directed one way, but he knew they wouldn’t easily comply with his expectations. Short stories harbored no value. When Erik streamlined a good story line, he couldn’t stop. It was like his own little magnificent, theatrical production. Often, his performances involved dealing with administration, familial affairs which could be dramatic), making movies, silly romances, various creative and intellectual games he played with his characters. Everything was stimulating—emotionally and intellectually. Erik couldn’t always categorize them so much like a fairy tale. Sometimes, it was just a higher level of life.

In his dreams, his mind field became the paintbrush and his canvas altogether, creating a perfect scheme. Though despite the complexities his tool harbored, he initially preferred creating a simple illustration—sitting in a golden-wheat meadow, marveling at every grain. Each one distinct and though different from the others, still perfectly formed. And as always, Erik closed his eyes, listening to susurration of the wheat that had become his sweet lullaby throughout every night. This art meant to be internal. His own inner art—difficult for the conventional artist to convey this world to others. Erik grew up and lived in this world. This unorthodox world… was his central reality for most of his life.

While most children heard pacified tales of the  _Three Little Pigs’_ misfortune,  _Rapunzel’s_  isolation,  _Cinderella’s_  abandonment, and  _Hansel and Gretel’s_  misadventures, Erik read fables dowsed in his imagination.

Perhaps his favorite tale would be the ebullient story of  _The Liar Princess and The Lost Prince_ …

_Once upon a time, there was a small, misguided prince. This young, feeble prince who spent immeasurable time in the shadows, began to wonder where he had come from, and why?_

_“Who in the world created me? And why?”_

_He tried to find others, but he was all alone in the darkness without another found soul like him._

_Realizing this, the little prince began walking alone to escape the darkness. It would be quite some time before the young prince would understand that this was his first time experiencing the emotion “loneliness”._

_The lonely prince traversed around the world:_

_The endlessly sprawling sky. The deep, blue sea. And new life being constantly reborn._

_Although the lost prince learned many things during his travels, he was never able to learn about himself._

_“Surely the answers I seek must be somewhere in this world…”_

_Believing this, the little prince continued his journey day after day. And then, one day, the little prince happened to encounter mysterious creatures called “humans”._

_Humans were knowledgeable of many things, and had many languages and many personalities._

_“It’s possible that these human creatures know who I am, and what I am!”_

_His heart filled with anticipation, the little prince approached the humans. However, the humans had nothing to teach the monster but pain, fear, and despair…_

_The human unleashed their wrath upon the little prince, fearing him and shunning him._

_They cast stones…cast fires…_

_They attacked the little prince, trying to slaughter him with whatever means they possessed at hand._

_“Why must I endure such torment?” cried out the young prince in pain each time he was injured by the humans._

_The terror that was born took root deeply in his heart, changed shape, and eventually the little prince’s heart became consumed with a myriad of feelings towards humans. One by one, the feelings oozed from The Lost Prince’s heart as if to protect him and morphed the young boy’s shape._

_The Lost Prince, his feelings now laid bare, and contrived many new powers and slew many humans._

_On the first day the prince took human life, he wept… And on the next day, and the next…_

_He continued to cry…_

_How much time had passed as he cried?_

_His tears now dried up, nothing remained of the prince’s desire to learn about himself. The prince reminisced the life he had once lived._

_“Ah… how I wish I never learned of this world. How much easier would my life have been had I stayed in that darkness, my mind empty of thought?”_

_The prince set out, deciding to search for a place where he could come into contact with no one and be all alone._

_How long did he walk for?_

_The prince found a very serene, quiet spot within a small forest. This somber, tranquil place, where not even the chirping of songbirds could be heard was most pleasant to the prince._

_“I will live my days here, all alone.”_

_Just as the prince was about to close his eyes and surrender himself to the silence, he suddenly heard the honeyed voice of a human._

_“Are you alone, too?”_

_A girl had appeared beside the prince. How long she had been there, he did not know. The girl offered a small laugh at the startled prince._

_“If you’re alone, would it be alright if I sat with you?”_

_The girl fell in love with the little prince. The girl who had been lonely could not turn her back on the melancholic prince._

_“Will you live with me?” smiled the girl to the prince._

_The prince had never been presented such kindness by a human before…_

_“Am I being tricked again? Will I be hurt again?”_

_The prince’s head filled with such worries._

_“I will live by myself. Go away and leave me alone,” declared the prince._

_But the girl stubbornly refused…_

_The girl came to stay at the prince’s side the next day, and the day after that. On sunny days, on snowy days, even on stormy days, the girl remained at the prince’s side._

_When several summers had passed and the girl had grown into a young woman, a tiny warm feeling flourished within the prince’s heart._

_“Will you live with me, N’Jadaka?”_

_The lonely prince, N’Jadaka, soon fell in love with the young princess named Eelisi._

_Happily, happily, he yearned his beloved calling out his name day after day._

_For the first time in his life, the prince knew what “beloved” meant._

_The princess soon gave birth to a child._

_Lovingly, lovingly, the prince and the princess called out its name day after day._

_For the first time in his life, the prince knew what “family” meant._

_The prince kept a diary._

_Merrily, merrily, he wrote in it day after day._

_For the first time in his life, the prince knew what “happiness” was._

_The prince realized that he was not growing any older, but his family was._

_Afraid, afraid, he wept day after day._

_For the first time in his life, the prince knew what “despair” meant._

_In a dream, the prince came upon a crystalline serpent. Slowly, the serpent said the following to him:_

_“I shall grant your wish. I shall grant what you desire, N’Jadaka. I shall teach you the magic that can grant you the eternity you seek.”_

_The prince was taught how to create worlds by the serpent he met in his dream._

_“If you create a new world, one that is not like this one, you will be able to spend all eternity with your family,” said the serpent to the prince._

_Exactly as he was instructed, the prince gathered together all his power and summoned a new world. In this newborn, empty world, time would not pass, and no one would grow old._

_The prince decided to tell his family about this world he had just created._

_“I am sure that this will let us live happily forever. Let’s be together forever.”_

_Hearing these words, the prince’s family became filled with insurmountable happiness._

_On the day that the prince and his family decided to travel to the new world, his beloved said the following to him:_

_“Before we go, why don’t we have a wedding?”_

_The prince did not know what that word meant. When the prince learned what it meant from his beloved, he was filled with emotions that were a mixture of happiness and shyness._

_“I will go to the village to make arrangements and then return. After that, we will escape this world forever.”_

_The prince nodded, smiling, him and their child sending_ _her off as she left their dwelling._

_They finally waved and waved to their beloved, whom they would never see again…_

—

N’Jadaka remembers how he mistakenly stumbled onto the threshold of the wildwood, blinded by his own turmoil at the time. But soon discovering a hidden glade he never realized thrived outside of his morally decayed dwelling he became accustomed to. Never in his years of harrowing existence had he witnessed the budding of eternal spring pulsate through every piece of substantial form it could touch.   
  
A cool breeze cushioned his face, delivering him from deep reverie. It’s in that moment when he becomes fully aware now of the springtime sun soaking into his rosewood skin, alluring him to further venture into this desolate meadow. Yes—he wanted only more. He craved life’s abundance. Never before had the god of the underworld and absolute demise craved life so much. His reluctancy however grounded him firmly into the   rich, emerald blades brushing against his ash ridden boots. Crossing over the boundary seemed like a sacrilege to N’Jadaka.   
  
Until he captured a glimpse of Eelisi, his beautiful maiden of trailing roses   
  
In the distance not far from his sight, she gracefully strode toward the pond amidst the meadow to greet an assembly of ducklings padding to the water’s edge. Vibrant cherry roses bloomed in her wake with leaves reaching for her presence as if she were the sun. The air itself seemed to radiate life around her, and she glowed with its essence. She looked like a cherub dutifully watching a fountain. From her woven laurel of cherry roses and ivory honeysuckles nestled at her curly crown, to the shimmering sheer gold that flowed from her arms to the arch of her back like liquid sunlight — leaving her shoulders untouched —glowing against her ochre skin which the spring sun had richened to a blessing. N’Jadaka refused to look away, even as his lips trembled and his shoulders heaved. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears; his hands clenched into trembling fists, in a desperate battle against his grief. A lone tear streamed down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened.

The maiden looks up from her reflection and silently gasps, dropping her ceramic vessel into the pond. She quickly discarded her morning ritual and rushed toward N’Jadaka’s cries. Once she approached him, immediately, she furnished all the warmth she possibly could and allowed him to sob into her chest unceasingly. She held him in silence, rocking him slowly. A tiny lapse pulled him away, blinking lashes heavy with tears before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have arrived in waves: minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling him back into the extended arms of grief.

His maiden…his princess…his beloved.

Eelisi breathed, her chest rising and falling with the sedative qualities of a lullaby. “I know you, N’Jadaka. The real one inside, not the one you show the world.”

N’Jadaka’s sobs had soon ebbed to a trickle and he took her hand gently into his. “Hey… How about we become monsters together… and lay waste to this awful world?”

“N’Jadaka…listen—”

“We’ll wipe out everything… all traces of evil or sadness… and just destroy, destroy, destroy… until there’s nothing left but dust. Don’t you think… that sounds nice, Eelisi?”

Once again, the invisible noose around Eelisi’s neck grew more weak, more feeble, before she open her lips one last time,

“N’Jadaka, your grave… is not here.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You can check out Eelisi’s character design and a few others here! http://opalesenses.tumblr.com/post/178986575874/its-officially-here-the-first-illustrated-set-of  
> The second set will be released before chapter three!
> 
> Miscellaneous: Still confused about the Mobius Strip, and how it’ll be integrated into this story? Here’s an interesting video explaining the implications of living on a Mobius Strip. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mdEsouIXGM&list=WL&index=4&t=0s


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